Spencer's Stalker
by yes-I-am-a-genius
Summary: Spencer Reid has the feeling that he is being followed. Is he? *Chapter Three has been fixed. Sorry about that.*
1. Am I being watched?

Spencer Reid had the sense that he was being followed. This wasn't the first time that he had felt this way. He usually brushed it off as being that it was just a habit that he had picked up from his paranoid schizophrenic mother. But this time he felt atypical about the situation. He turned around. No one was there. He continued to his car.

(At the B.A.U.)

Spencer walked into the B.A.U. feeling silly for thinking he had been followed. But, of course, he still felt that there had been more to it. As he walked in, Derek Morgan strode up to him.

"Pretty boy, what's up? Something bothering you? Is there somethin' you want to talk about?" Derek, being a good friend, asked.

Without really thinking, Spencer replied defensively, "No. Should there be?" Then he remembered that he was in a roomful of profilers. He regretted his response.

Derek wouldn't let Spencer's remark slide. "You sure about that? I think that there is."

Spencer sat down at his desk and started to put his things in his desk. He was fully aware that Derek was still standing there, awaiting an answer from him.

Spencer put on his most serious face. "Derek, I can assure you that there is nothing wrong. Trust me. And yes, I am well aware that I am in a roomful of skilled profilers. Why would anything be wrong?"

Derek takes an instinctive step backward. "No reason... I was just checkin', you know? Sometimes we just need to hear people looking out for us. Chill, man," Derek replies.

Spencer goes back to his latest file. However, his mind keeps wandering back to the feeling he had earlier in the day. Had he been followed? And if so, by whom?

**This was a short chapter, but there will be much more to this story soon!**


	2. A reoccurring feeling

It had been a few weeks since Spencer last had the feeling that he was being followed. Their last case had been a killer (pun intended), and they finally had a week off. Everyone was thrilled, and even JJ and Garcia got the week off. Spencer had his whole week planned out on the plane. Lots and lots of educational material to be processed by his cranium. And it was all leading up to the Doctor Who convention he was going to with Garcia on Saturday. He couldn't wait.

As he was walking toward the door, Penelope Garcia stopped him. "Hey, where are you off to, 187? Come have a drinkie or two with your friends. We'll have you back by midnight... maybe. You in?" Garcia told him.

"Sorry, Garcia," Spencer apologized. "I have a lot of stuff to do. Maybe some other time."

"What? Reading some obscure book?" replied Garcia.

"Yes, actually. And I will have myself a good time, thank you. I'll see on Saturday at 8 A.M. sharp, Garcia- I don't want to arrive late," Spencer called as he dashed to catch the elevator before it shut.

As he retrieved his car from the parking garage, Spencer thought that he heard footsteps behind him. He slowly turned around. No one was there, so he called out, "H-hello? Is there anyone there?" There wasn't any reply, so he cautiously resumed to his beat up old car.

When he got into his car, he noticed that there was something glinting in the light on the passenger seat. It was an ornamental pen. It was silver with little eyes painted on the sides. On it the words, 'I can c u' were engraved into the silvery pen. Spencer picked it up to examine it further. He rushed out of the car to look to see if anyone was watching him or could have seen who left the pen. Once again, there was no one in sight.

'Oh, well. It doesn't matter,' Spencer thought. 'It must have been Derek trying to play a practical joke on me or something along those lines. No need to worry... But what if it wasn't him?'


	3. Salad Dressing

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Criminal Minds or any part of CBS/ABC studios, or Jeopardy!. . I am just a lowly loyal viewer. **

Spencer went home thinking about what had just happened. As hard as he tried, he still couldn't quite convince himself that Morgan was the one who had planted the pen inside his car. He decided that he would call Derek first thing the next morning. He needed to convince himself either way soon- it was driving him to paranoia.

He drew his gun as he approached his house; he wasn't about to take any chances. He inspected his whole house, and found nothing. Relieved, the young doctor put down his belongings and went to make himself an overdue supper. He opened the cupboard over the sink to retrieve a box of pasta, but came up empty handed. Seeing this, he made a mental note to write out a grocery list for the next day, thankful that he had planned on going to the store the next day in his planned out week. He instead made himself a huge salad out of all of the edible leftover food in his kitchen. He sat down at his small kitchen table, about to plunge into the jungle of a dish, when he realized he forgot one key thing: salad dressing. He walked back to his fridge and rummaged through the bottles of liquids, but then remembered that he had used up the last of the dressing the week before. "Salad dressing," he said out loud, and ate his salad with mayonnaise over top, and to his surprise, it wasn't terribly bad.

Spencer sat down on his couch to read his book on the history of thread. He finished it in twenty minutes, taking notes on both the content and the graphics. Then he watched three episodes of Jeopardy! that he recorded, acing every question.

"Common iron consists of a mixture of 4 of these, iron-54 , iron-56, iron-57 & iron-58," Alex asks.

"Oh my, hmm, what are isotopes?" Reid mocks the hesitation that the contestants show. "Oh, come on! I could have answered that at age four!"

"The airport serving Grand Rapids, Michigan is named for this 38th president," Alex again asks.

Spencer grazed his hand on his side table as he excitedly answers "Gerald Ford! We were just there! That was too easy!"

As soon as he said this, the pain in his hand reached his brain. He paused his show and turned on the lamp to inspect the damage done to his hand. He was shocked to discover a shallow gash on the side of his left hand leaking blood onto his green sweater. He quickly went to his bathroom, washed and band aided his wound. He took the soiled sweater off and draped it over a chair in the kitchen. He went back to the living room, sat down, and switched off the lamp, careful not to bump his hand. After he had watched all three, he took a shower and went to bed.

**divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider divider **

When Spencer woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was make a beeline for the coffee. When he entered the kitchen, he noticed two unnerving things. One: a bottle of Spencer's favorite salad dressing was on the counter. Two: his blooded sweater had been laundered and neatly folded, then placed on his table.

'_What is going on here? This most definitely was not the work of Derek Morgan. Someone has been in my house!'_ Spencer thought to himself.

Spencer picked up his gun from in the entryway stand drawer. He searched his entire home; he found no evidence that someone had been in house other than himself. Even so, Spencer could not bring himself to put together the facts.

'_No, you were tired last night. You forgot what you did,'_ Spencer told himself. But his gut instinct was still driving him.

Spencer pulled out his cellphone out of yesterday's pants. He dialed the familiar number.

"_Hello?"_ a groggy man's voice said. "Yeah, um, Morgan? Could you please come over?"


	4. What's wrong?

**DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Criminal Minds or any part of CBS/ABC studios. I am just a lowly loyal viewer.**

Derek came over as soon as he could. He hadn't even had time to grab breakfast, let alone eat it. Spencer hadn't specified what exactly was going on, but that there were some things in his house that weren't supposed to be there. Spencer was beyond freaked out on the phone. He wasn't even talking- he was whispering. Derek just had to find out what was wrong.

Derek knocked on the door with some force; if there was someone in the house besides Spencer, he wanted them to know that Derek Morgan had arrived. "Hello? Pretty Boy, you home? It's Derek!" He tried the door, and it was unlocked. "Spencer, I'm coming in!" Derek warned as he cautiously opened the door. Upon entering, Derek noticed a human-like shadow in the kitchen. He drew his gun and walked in.

"AAAHHH! Derek! Put the freakin' gun down! What are you doing?" Spencer exclaimed.

Derek took a quick look around the room. Spencer was the only one in the room, and had been reading a book.

"I thought that you said that something was wrong, and that you needed me to come over right away! How was I to know that you were just sitting here reading a book! What in the heck is wrong? I sure hope that you didn't drag me out of my nice, warm bed at 6:30 in the morning for nothin'," Derek yelled angrily at Spencer while he put back his gun.

"What? There _is_ something wrong- you just over reacted, Derek. And, actually, I got you out of bed at 6:27, not 6:30," Spencer replied. "If you would just wait a moment, you could find out what's wrong. Could you sit down? It's making me a bit nervous."

Derek took the seat opposite of Spencer. He cooled down for a couple of minutes before he spoke. "Okay, Reid, what's up? I just wanted to help you, and I guess that I over reacted."

"You guess? Sorry, I guess that I should have told you more information. Would you like something to eat? Coffee?" Spencer asked Derek. "I mean, I take it that you didn't have enough time to eat anything."

"Uh, yeah, sure, in a minute. I would like to know what's wrong first," Derek answered.

Spencer nodded and rose from his chair. He walked over to the counter, where he had put the two items that he had discovered earlier that same morning. "Do you see what is sitting on my counter?"

"Uh, yeah; a bottle of salad dressing and the sweater you wore to work yesterday," Derek responded.

"Right, but _I _didn't put them there- well I moved the sweater before you arrived so that I wouldn't soil it again," Spencer replied.

"So wait; you're telling me that you did not put those there, that someone other than yourself did. And hold on- what do you mean by 'soil it _again_'?" Derek said with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Yes, yes I am. And in order to answer the last part, I will have to tell you the whole story. Would you like some coffee now?" Spencer said as he walked over to the coffee pot.

"Sure," Derek replied. Spencer poured two cups of coffee, one which contained double- extra sugar, handed the other to his colleague, and sat down to tell him the previous night's events, including the pen and his feelings of being followed.

"So, you didn't wash that sweater or tell anyone about the dressing?" Derek questioned when the story had been told.

"No! That's what I've been trying to get through to you! But if I was being followed, that would explain it!" Spencer exclaimed.

"But it still wouldn't explain as to why the bottle and sweater were in your house the way they were... Unless they had some way to see everything in your house," Derek reasoned.

"Um, Derek?" Spencer squeaked. "Would that maybe explain that blinking red light coming from on top of my cupboard?"


	5. Author's note

**Okay so this isn't a real chapter. I'm terribly sorry about that. I am taking a short break from the story- but fear not!- I will be updating soon! I would like you all to know that I have a poll on my profile that I would like you all to take the 34 seconds to vote on. Please. Any suggestions will be welcome for this or any of my stories. Also: hugs and hugs to those who have favorited any of my stories, added them to your alerts, or ME to your fav author list. You guys rock!**


	6. Cream of Wheats

**Sorry that this update took sooo long and that this is way too late in my time zone to be typing. I am going to have whole team in story soon. No, I do NOT own either Criminal Minds or Cream of Wheats, though both would be great. Sorry, rambling. And now your feature, and long awaited, story.**

"What? What blinking red light?" Derek asked, a bit freaked out.

Spencer turned his chair slightly to face Derek and his face not visible to the possible camera.

"The one right above my head on top of the cupboard behind those never opened cookbooks. I saw it out of the corner of my eye," Spencer replied, dropping his voice to a faint whisper. If there _was_ someone watching them, Spencer didn't want to alarm the uninvited third party. Especially if it meant that putting lives at risk, which is the opposite of what he wanted or needed.

Fortunately, Derek was using his profiler skills and caught onto Spencer's reason for his sudden subtle seat realignment.

"Yes, I think that I will take some breakfast now," Derek said, a bit too loud.

Spencer looked at him in confusion for a few seconds before it clicked in his ever- so- logical mind that Derek had intercepted the message that Spencer had thrown him by moving the chair and the volume of his voice.

"Oh, uh, sure. Yeah, okay, I can get you something to eat. What would you like?" Spencer replied in a somewhat nervous voice with the same volume.

"Do you have any oatmeal?"

Spencer walked over to the cupboard where such food items were stored in his kitchen. Finding no oatmeal, he grabbed a box of Cream of Wheats. "Will this do?" he asked as he held the box up for Derek's approval.

"Yeah, sure. Do you mind? I'm starving," Derek told him, being completely serious and knowing that Spencer would catch that and actually make it so that it would be edible. "Do you mind if I go outside and make this call?"

Spencer shook his head. "No, I don't mind. Either one. No, go ahead; I can handle your breakfast without burning the kitchen down."

"Let's hope so," Derek chuckled as he took his exit.

While Spencer was inside fixing the creamy breakfast cuisine, Derek walked outside to call his superior.

"_Hotchner,"_ a tired man's voice answered.

"Hotch, it's me, Morgan. Listen, I-"

"_Derek, I told you guys not to bother me while we're on vacation unless it's an emergency," _Hotch's voice interrupted.

"Hotch, this is an emergency. I was about to tell you that."

"_Go ahead, Morgan. What is it? Someone hurt? Are you okay?"_ Hotch said, suddenly alert and more awake.

"Yeah, Hotch. No one's hurt-yet," Derek responded.

"_Yet?"_ Hotch said, worried.

"Yeah, Hotch, listen to me. Reid called me earlier and said that something was wrong. I got here as soon as I could. When I got here, everything seemed fine."

"_So, what's wrong?"_

"Reid told me why he called. He said that some things were in his house that he didn't put there and that he had felt like he had been followed on more than one occasion. He can tell you that story himself later. Anyways, Hotch, then when he was done telling me about it, he noticed a blinking red light coming from on top of one of his cupboards. I saw it too; it's a camera, Hotch. Someone's been stalking him."

The other man was silent for a moment.

"_Okay, Morgan. I'm going to head over there now. Will you guys be okay until I get there?"_ Hotch finally said.

"Yeah. I'm having Reid make me some breakfast, actually. I was starving and we figured that it would be overly suspicious to just sit at the table like a couple of logs."

"_Alright, good. I'll be there soon. And Morgan-be careful." _ Hotch told him.

"Yeah, I will- and I'll watch out for the kid too." Derek replied before Hotch hung up.

'What had Reid gotten himself into?' Derek thought to himself as he re-entered Spencer's home.


End file.
